Dust-up in the coat room
By the time you have 108 candles on your cake, I hope you forgive everyone. But, if your name is Theodosia, I just hope I can duck in time to dodge the cake as you throw it at your nearest nemesis.
Kitty LeFey’s Cosmos: Real Housecats of NJ
Reality TV is overrated. Too many people, not enough cats. That’s where Tabby’s Place comes in.
Between you and me
Brian does not believe in decorating life’s difficulties. Brian does not believe in fudging the facts. Brian is a brown tabby, which means he is composed entirely of truth.
July is a reset
We have lived so many lives since the year was new. January’s resolutions are wadded up like parking tickets and Burger King receipts under our seats. But the Abacus is ready for a reset.
Verne is earnest
Although we are more eminent than Princeton, with a higher number of salmon scholars than Swarthmore, Tabby’s Place does not require letters of recommendation. But if we did, Verne‘s would outshine them all.
Not a dry eye
Love has letters for us all, but each one is unique. Love may ask you to sing French lullabies to a child with the flu. Love may place a bottle in your left hand and a kitten in your right, even if you are the one trembling. Love may overwhelm your best intentions, until you […]
Kitty LeFey’s Cosmos: Parlor Tricks and Paramours
Love stories permeate everything from literature to popular streaming series. Some of the most endearing unfold at Tabby’s Place: A Cat Sanctuary.
Some is found
If your goal is getting the room to agree with you, you have options. You can command: “If you like Cheez-Its, raise your hand. Wave it in the air. Wave it as though you do not care.” You can be coy: “Anyone think kittens are cute?” Or, you can spew a toxic stew: “Everything is […]
In the Bastille of the night
Let’s not be too hard on this planet. It may be responsible for low-rise jeans, halitosis, and individually wrapped cheese slices. But it also gave us Dolly Parton, chickpeas, and cats who celebrate Bastille Day. Or at least one. And he happens to be ours.
Undried in the sun
I wonder what the cats think of our names. I will not say “their” names. They address each other by their real names, which we will never know. But they play along with us, the way you let your nephew win at Uno.